The Quidditch League
by CheleCooke
Summary: The Quidditch cup is cancelled, but something bigger and better is taking its place... The Quidditch League! A competition involving every magical school in the world. The only question is, who will be picked for the team? Chapters 1,2&3 now up.
1. Default Chapter

The Quidditch cup is cancelled, but something bigger and better is taking its place... The Quidditch League! A competition involving every magical school in the world. The only question is, who will be picked for the team? And will they have the right stuff to compete?  
  
Author's Notes: As Always, I want to thank my wonderful editor! She is fab and corrects all my stupid mistakes, despite putting all my spelling in American. LOL. Anyway, I wouldn't get anywhere without her, coz a lot of stuff I write is inspiration from our conversations. Anyway thanks again Nar.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters already in the books, but all the other characters and other schools are mine... So please don't take them without permission. A lot of hard work and effort went into writing this story, so if you stealm it, it will make me very sad.  
  
The Quidditch League  
  
Prologue  
  
Harry rolled over in his four-poster bed, it was nearly two a.m. and he still couldn't sleep. All summer and nothing. Once again, Dumbledore had left him to stew at the Dursley's all summer. He had written, as promised, once every three days to the people at Grimmauld Place, and had always received lengthy answers from someone, but none of them ever contained anything especially interesting. The Order could not put anything in a letter that could be intercepted, so they would always tell him the same thing but with different wording. "Stay at the Dursley's, keep yourself out of trouble, don't go out alone." Harry could not see the point in obeying the last warning, even if he could convince Dudley to waddle his great ass out the door, if Voldemort jumped out, wand raised ready to kill Harry on the spot, Dudley Dursley would more than likely stand there and let him. In fact, he would probably have grabbed something big and heavy and given Harry a few whacks to help Voldemort in his job.  
  
Being back at Hogwarts however, he thought something would have happened by now. It was nearing November and he was still having to go to classes, do his homework, practice Quidditch, and do all his free time things without so much of a glimpse of anything strange going on and it was keeping him awake at night. Ron and Hermione were, of course, finding this lack of trouble very relieving. Their prefect duties were keeping them extremely busy, not to mention the stress of now dealing with Newt level work.   
  
Hermione had passed every single one of her levels with 'Outstanding' grades, something that made Professor Snape very unhappy as it meant Hermione was still in his class. Something that made Professor Snape even angrier, and sometimes even change colour, was that Harry had managed to scrape an 'Outstanding'. Nobody, not even Harry knew how he scraped such a high grade, in the exam, he didn't think his potion was that good, but the examiner seemed to think it was, and had graded Harry with the highest grade possible.   
  
Harry had passed most of his exams. His Divination was a complete failure, though he did score higher than Ron who received a 'D', just scraping a 'P', but only by a few marks. History of Magic and Astronomy were unfortunately the same, both receiving a 'P'. His Transfiguration and Charms both received 'Exceeding Expectations' and Care of Magical Creatures he managed, to Hagrid's delight, to receive the same. Herbology was an 'Acceptable' and Defence Against the Dark Arts, he managed to receive an 'Outstanding', something Harry almost laughed about every time he looked at it, with one main thought in mind... If only Dolores Umbridge could see this. On the first day back, Professor McGonagall had called him into her office, offering him a seat and a biscuit.   
  
"Potter, I suppose you know why I've called you in here?" She had asked, taking a seat.  
  
"Actually no." Harry replied slowly.  
  
"Well, I wanted to know if you still wanted to try to become an Auror Potter. You somehow managed to get all the grades," A faint smile flickered across her lips as she flicked through a few pieces of paper. "and even Professor Snape could not find a reason to keep you out of his NEWT class."  
  
"Yes I do want to continue." Harry replied grinning. However dreadful lessons with Snape looked to be, the thought of becoming an Auror was lifting his hopes higher and higher.   
  
"I also wanted to congratulate you on your Defence grade." Professor McGonagall outwardly smiled this time. "Despite having that incompetent twit teaching you all last you, you received the highest grade for Defence in the year."   
  
Harry grinned up at the silhouette of the canopy of his four-poster bed as he remembered how envious Hermione had been at his brilliant Defence grade.   
  
So, classes had resumed as normal, Harry now taking his five highest scored subjects and there had not been a single sight of danger, something that had been making Harry uneasy. Even the new Defence Against the Dark arts teacher, Professor Ranshackle, was really nice. But, on the second day of term, just as Harry and Ron were suspecting she was a Death Eater due to her wish to torture them by giving them excessive amounts of homework, Harry received a letter from Remus Lupin telling him that if he had any problems to talk to Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore, or Professor Ranshackle, as she was one of their newest additions to the Order of the Phoenix. Hermione had snorted with laughter when they told her of this, giving her most defined 'I was right' voice. "Well, it just goes to show that you and Ron judge people too quickly." She had scoffed, finishing her essay and rolling it up.   
  
In fact, the only remotely weird occurrence at the school; was that Ron, who had somehow been made Quidditch Captain, had not been given the date for the first Quidditch game, he didn't even know who they were playing. After speaking to the other Quidditch Captains, which unfortunately meant Malfoy as well, Ron found out nobody had been given any hint when the first game would be, but they had all just been told to keep practicing. Harry pondered this for a second. The teachers gave no indication when the Quidditch league would start, but they all seemed extremely pleased training was going ahead. Having passed the weekend when the first game was usually held, Harry was extremely puzzled as to why he hadn't been given the chance to whip the Slyhterin's asses yet.   
  
Having lost all three of their Chasers, and their two Beaters in one year, Harry was surprised they had managed to pull together such an excellent team. Ron was still Keeper, and Harry was obviously still Seeker. Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper, who had replaced for Fred and George when they received their lifetime ban, had been practicing a lot over the summer and were now pretty strong and very good at targeting. Ginny had received a Chaser spot, as had Hailey Penter and Patrick Sailor, all of whom were actually pretty good.   
  
So without the dreams of long dark corridors, without the looming knowledge of something weird, because everyone now knew it was coming, and without any evil teachers in the school, Harry was felt feeling, for the first time in his life since he started Hogwarts, completely normal, and this feeling was keeping him awake at nights. 


	2. The Quidditch League

Author's Notes: Sorry it took so long. Just please review ok!  
  
Chapter One.  
  
The Quidditch League  
  
Halloween brought a cheer to the castle that the impending doom of Voldemort had kept at bay since the beginning of term. The day off classes as a special treat from Dumbledore meant that everybody had spent the day either lounging in the common room, watching the decorations being put up in the hall, or catching up on unfinished homework for after the weekend. Harry and Ron spent the first half of the day catching up on the copious amounts of homework they had received from Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, while Hermione sat charming her knitting needles to knit small jumpers for the House Elves she still hadn't freed. Harry still hadn't had the courage to tell her that Dobby had taken all the clothes for himself and Winky, so she kept on knitting, sure that she was doing the House Elves a service.   
  
When the mountain of homework had reduced itself to a small molehill, Harry traipsed upstairs and grabbed his Firebolt and Broom Servicing kit, setting about making his Firebolt good as new. Ron, once finishing his homework, had run off down to the library to grab a copy of Quidditch Through the ages, and was proceeding to read through it for some helpful tips.   
  
"Harry, did you know there are seven hundred different ways of fouling?" Ron asked in awe as they sat quietly in their favourite seats by the fire.  
  
"No," Harry replied slowly. "but you know the Slytherin team has used every single one of them… twice." Ron snorted with laughter, turning back to the book. After a second he burst out laughing again.   
  
"What?" Harry and Hermione chorused, looking up from their tasks.  
  
"There has never been a full list of these fouls given out because the ministry believe that players might get ideas." Ron laughed. "Do you think this was when Fudge became minister? It sounds like him to be worried about people using things against him." Harry laughed, though Hermione looked bored.  
  
"Obviously not Ron, it says they've never given a list, and Quidditch has been around long before Fudge became Minister." She replied seriously. Harry and Ron exchanged humoured looks, but decided not to say anything.   
  
It wasn't long before Neville greeted them by the fire.   
  
"Are you three coming down to the Great Hall? The Feast is starting soon." With a murmur of ascent, they packed away their things and put them in their dormitories to make their way to the feast.   
  
The Great Hall, as always, looked fabulous for Halloween. Giant glowing pumpkins lighted the tables with various faces carved into them. Large and dauntingly real cobwebs hung from the ceilings, causing Ron to grip Harry's sleeve and ask him if Hagrid could have asked Aragog to make them. Every so often, a bat would appear from the enchanted ceiling, fly around the hall and disappear into the sky again, and at one point, Harry was sure that he saw a black cat strolling absently between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.  
  
Once everyone was seated, Dumbledore stood and ushered for silence. He need not have bothered, for once he began speaking, the hall fell silent instantly, listening intently.  
  
"Good evening to you all, and I hope you all enjoyed your free day." An appreciative sigh came from all the fifth years around the hall and Harry wished he could have a free day last year. "I have some news to clear up the confusion to do with the Quidditch Cup." A murmur began rising in the hall, and Ron leaned over to Harry.   
  
"Finally!" He muttered excitedly as Hermione proceeded to 'shush' him.  
  
"Now, This year, there will be no Quidditch Cup."   
  
"WHAT?" Roughly everyone involved in Quidditch had yelled at this, making Dumbledore laugh, as quite a few of the teachers jumped at the unexpected uproar.   
  
"Everyone calm down. Now, this year is a very special year. Once every ten years, there is what we call, The Quidditch League. Now, this is not an ordinary Quidditch Competition, it is a competition involving every Wizarding school in the world. In other words, it is the World Cup for the Wizarding Schools."  
  
An excited murmur once again began rising among the students, causing Professor McGonagall to give her stern silencing glare.   
  
"I'm afraid to announce that only people on the school Quidditch Teams at the moment will be able to compete for this wonderful opportunity. We will be sending fourteen people to compete, seven for our starting team, and seven for reserves." Even McGonagall's piercing stare could not silence the students now, as Dumbledore's voice grew louder to drown them out. "Next Saturday, the four teams will be playing an incredibly special and incredibly different game of Quidditch. So on this note, we will need the four captains to come and see Madam Hooch at the end of the feast for instructions. Now, let's eat."   
  
The excited voices were soon joined by the clattering of plates, knives, forks, spoons, and cups, as the feast appeared on the tables. Harry leaned forward, grabbing a plate of chicken legs and helping himself to one before looking around for some potatoes, which turned out to be in Ron's hand as he spooned himself a rather large spoonful.   
  
"So, what do you think this different Quidditch is?" Ron asked, looking at Harry. Harry shrugged and turned to Hermione, who stared back at him.  
  
"What?" She asked defensively. "How should I know?"   
  
"Are you telling me, you do not have the answer to something?" Ron asked, almost dropping the plate of potatoes. Harry grabbed them off him quickly and began putting a few on his plate.   
  
"Ron, if you haven't noticed, I don't pay that much attention to Quidditch." Hermione replied snappishly.  
  
"But you have Hogwarts a History imprinted on your brain, doesn't it say anything about this?"   
  
"No."   
  
"If this happens every ten years, surely one of your brother's was here during the last one?" Harry commented, helping himself to a goblet full of pumpkin juice. Ron dropped his knife and fork and began counting quickly on his fingers.   
  
"No." He replied disappointedly. "Charlie would have left the year before."  
  
"Bummer." Harry replied, shoving a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth. "So whaddya fink 't cud be?" Harry gave him a sour disgusted look, and he fell quiet.  
  
"I don't know." Ron replied. "But I wish Fred and George were here. They'd definitely be the beaters." He groaned. "There's no way I'll get on the team."   
  
"Don't say that." Hermione cooed, patting him on the shoulder. "You're an excellent Keeper."   
  
"Yeah right. You didn't even see!" Ron replied in a disgruntled way. "Oh well, at least Harry will get on the team!"  
  
"What makes you say that?" Harry asked quickly.  
  
"Oh come on. You're the best seeker in this school! Way better than Malfoy." Hermione snarled angrily as a loud burst of laughter came from the Slytherin table.   
  
"Yeah mate!" Ron replied happily. "That'll put Malfoy and his cronies in their place."  
  
They continued to talk about the upcoming Quidditch league until Dumbledore stood and ushered for silence once again." Harry leaned on the table, after eating his third helping of Treacle Sponge; he was feeling quite tired and sleepy.   
  
"As a reminder, could all the Quidditch Captains come and see Madam Hooch. Goodnight."   
  
Dumbledore took his seat and the scraping of chairs almost drowned Ron out as he leaned over the table to Harry and Hermione.  
  
"Make sure all the Quidditch team wait in the common room." He told them before hurrying off to Madam Hooch, where Malfoy was already standing smugly. Harry slipped through the crowds to find the other members of the team. Reaching the Common Room, he found them all sitting by the fire already.   
  
"Oh, I was looking for you guys." Harry smiled. "Ron wants a word when he gets here."  
  
"We guessed as much." Ginny grinned.   
  
The silence was excruciating as they waited for Ron. No one seemed to want to talk, and even Harry's hopes of being picked to play were fleeting even more than they were in the Great Hall. After about twenty minutes of silence, a creak and a slight 'oomph' signalled Ron's return. With everyone looking at him expectantly, Ron took a seat next to Harry.   
  
"Well, it certainly will be different on Saturday." He commented slowly.  
  
"What's going on?" Andrew Kirke asked.  
  
"It's one big game." Ron replied in a rather hollow way. "All four teams; all playing at once."  
  
"How does that even work?" Ginny's baffled voice came slowly.  
  
"I have no idea." Ron replied. "Madam Hooch said she wasn't giving any pointers to anyone. We had to work out a game plan ourselves as she wouldn't be around for the League."   
  
"There are only two sets of hoops." Jack Sloper argued curiously. "Who's meant to score where?"   
  
"As I said, I don't know." Ron replied slowly. "Now, everyone get to bed. I booked the pitch for tomorrow weeks ago, so Slytherin can't use some lame ass excuse. We start at nine." All grumbling about the early start, they got up and walked off to bed, Ron and Harry left sat in the common room alone.  
  
"Ron…"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You want to get my dad's cloak?"   
  
"Thought you'd never ask, mate!" Harry took the stairs three at a time, slowing when he got to the dormitory to make sure he didn't wake the others. Pulling his cloak out of his trunk, he crept back downstairs to where Ron was waiting. Climbing out of the Portrait hole, they swung the cloak over themselves before it shut so that the Fat Lady wouldn't know who had opened her after nine o'clock. They had to go very slowly, as it was now almost impossible for the two of them to walk normally under the cloak. Finally making it out of the Front doors, they made their way as quickly as possible to the Quidditch Stadium. Walking out into the stadium, they could hardly believe their eyes. Instead of the large oval pitch, it had been changed to a completely circular pitch, almost four times the size of the ordinary pitch. Four sets of goal posts were now spaced like the twelve, three, six, and nine numbers of a clock, and four sets of doors went to four different changing rooms.   
  
While Harry stared dumbstruck, Ron had gone from under the cloak and was walking to the centre of the pitch. He was staring around as if the stadium was his worst nightmare, and in a way, Harry could see where he was coming from. There would be twelve chasers for Ron to worry about, not to mention eight beaters. Harry really felt relieved he was a Seeker due to being able to stay out of the way, but the thought of having to find the Snitch though all those people on such a huge pitch was going to be hell. Not to mention stopping the other three Seekers finding it first. This really would be hell. Walking over to Ron, slipping out of the cloak, he patted Ron on the shoulder.  
  
"We'll be fine mate." Harry assured him, also trying to assure himself. "At least this time it doesn't matter if we win."  
  
"Yeah." Ron replied quietly. "Yeah we just have to play our best. Everyone for themselves."  
  
"No." Harry replied softly. "If we work as a team as you've been showing us in practice, then they'll see we can work together and we'll more likely get picked."  
  
"Just promise me one thing mate." Ron smirked, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Make Malfoy look like a complete arse."  
  
"Oh believe me," Harry replied laughing. "I'll try my best."  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
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	3. Long Awaited Pardon

Chapter Two  
  
Long awaited Pardon   
  
Harry awoke the next morning to a loud alarm clock he didn't remember setting or even acquiring. He rolled over, jumping slightly to see an arm protruding through his hangings with a hand holding a large magenta alarm clock. Groaning, Harry looked at the time on the clock, eight thirty. It didn't seem human to be waking up this early on a Saturday. He remembered Oliver waking him early on Saturday's for practice, but Oliver wasn't human. Harry was sure of it. Nobody that motivated could be human. The Weasley Twins had then expressed their fear that Oliver had died and Angelina was channelling his spirit, and while Harry had laughed at the time, the alarm clock that seemed to resemble the sound of a church bell made Harry wonder (through the ringing in his ears) Whether or not Oliver really was channelling his spirit into every Gryffindor Quidditch Captain in turn.  
  
"I'M UP!" Harry bellowed over the noise, at which point the arm retreated from Harry's hangings and the alarm stopped. From the other beds, Harry could hear loud grumbling.  
  
"What time do you call this Weasley? Where did you get that thing anyway?" Dean was mumbling; his voice muffled from the pillow he had shoved over his head.  
  
"It's eight thirty! Time for Harry to get up for Quidditch practice." Ron called cheerfully.   
  
"We're not all called Harry!" Seamus groaned, swinging his legs out of bed, but forgetting to open the hangings so that all that was visible was a pair of feet in royal blue thick woollen socks and all they heard was a spluttering as Seamus received a mouthful of material when he tried to finish his sentence.  
  
Once Harry was up and dressed, and Seamus had successfully unravelled himself from his hangings, they made their way down for breakfast, leaving a grumbling Dean to return to bed.   
  
The Great Hall was empty apart from the other Gryffindor players, Hermione, and to Ron's great dismay, the Slytherin team.   
  
"If they think they're using the pitch they've got another thing coming!" Ron snarled angrily as he sat down next to Ginny with a bang, causing the goblet of Pumpkin juice Ginny was holding to jolt and splash down her shirt. She gave Ron an angry glare before picking up a napkin to wipe herself off.   
  
"Ron, you know what Malfoy's like. He's probably got a written letter from Snape." Harry groaned, helping himself to bacon. "No way we can stop them."  
  
"Oh Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry." Ron smirked. "Don't underestimate me."   
  
"I didn't!" Harry snapped defensively, the grin from Ron's face fading instantly.  
  
"Mate, no need to snap my head off I was joking." He replied coolly. Harry looked down at his plate and didn't speak again until they left for the Quidditch Pitch.  
  
Changing quickly, Harry shoved his wand inside his robes and followed Ron out onto the pitch, where, as expected, Malfoy was standing in the middle, grinning smugly as he held up a piece of parchment. They walked to the middle of the pitch, a few confused mutterings coming from the rest of the team behind them, probably concerning the new pitch.  
  
"Turn around Weasley, read it and weep! Professor Snape said we could use the pitch!" He drawled mockingly.  
  
Without as much as an annoyed look Ron put down the crate of balls and pulled a piece of parchment and gave it to Malfoy.   
  
"You're the one turning around Malfoy! I booked the pitch weeks ago, and I made sure to get the Deputy Headmistress to sign saying so herself! So unless you've got an overriding letter from Dumbledore… You're not using the pitch until two o'clock when out practice finishes!"   
  
Draco's straight nose wrinkled up in anger as he snatched up his broom and stalked off the pitch to the Slytherin changing rooms, the Slytherin team blundering off after him.  
  
"Wow, Ron." Ginny laughed from behind Harry. "I didn't think you had it in you." Turning to them and flushing a deep crimson around his ears, Ron smiled slyly.  
  
"I've been in correspondence with Oliver Wood since I found out I was Quidditch Captain. He told me how to beat back the Slytherins and make sure they didn't get the pitch. McGonagall was furious when I told her I wanted written confirmation for all my pitch bookings, but I got them." He grinned triumphantly, brandishing a stack of pitch bookings at them.  
  
"Was it Oliver that gave you that clock by any chance?" Harry asked dully, for if he had, God only knew what else he had given him.  
  
"Oh no, I got this from Fred and George. Sleep Blaster!" Ron explained. "Right, well I stayed up all last night looking up formations and battle tactics." He pulled out a large piece of parchment and laid it out over the crate in front of them. The ink drawn stick men with little nametags over their heads began flying around. Harry watched as his own figure zoomed around aimlessly.   
  
"Now, I want everyone on defensive!" Ron exclaimed sternly. "We know Slytherin will be trying to take up out. Their battle tactic will be to hurt as many of us as possible so we have no chance of making the team, therefore everyone must be on high alert as all times." The stick drawings all began only flying around one set of goal posts, all apart from Harry's, which kept circling the pitch.  
  
"Andrew, Jack, I want you two to focus as much power on Slytherin as possible."  
  
"Ron, you can't do that!" Hailey protested, her long blonde braid swinging menacingly in the strong breeze.  
  
"Look, Slytherin will be playing dirty! Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff have good teams, but they will be less hassle. Plus, their beaters are no where near as fierce as Crabbe and Goyle" Two green stick men had suddenly flown into the diagram and were proceeding to beat two black dots at the Gryffindor team causing them to have to keep scattering and regroup.   
  
"Ron's right." Ginny piped up. "Slytherin will not care that there are two other teams playing. Nor will they be concentrating on winning. They'll just be trying to pick us off one by one." Ron nodded along with his sister's encouragement of his plan.  
  
"Sorry to do this to you mate," Ron began, turning to Harry, "but we're pretty much counting on you for a win." Harry grimaced, the thought of such an important game riding on his broom with him made his stomach churn.  
  
"On that note." Ron continued, we have a lot of formation stuff to go through down here, why don't you take the Snitch and let it loose." He finished, moving his diagram to the ground.  
  
Nodding, Harry opene the crate and set the Snitch loose. Everyone watched it flutter for a minute and disappear just as Harry kicked off the ground and soared upwards. Floating stationary for a minute, Harry scanned the pitch; it was going to be near impossible to see the Snitch on such a large pitch, but as he began soaring around, the wind rushing through his hair, he knew this would be like any other time. His thoughts were confirmed as he saw the fluttering of wings behind Ron's flame red hair.   
  
He turned his broom and saw Ginny also watching the Snitch, taking glances at Harry. Going into a dive, Harry zoomed towards them, hurtling towards the ground. He held out hif arm, his fingers closing over the cool Snitch, and the rustle as his sleeve patted against the back of Ron's head.  
  
"What the hell?" Ron spluttered turning around as Harry flew off upwards again, the struggling Snitch in his hand.   
  
"Catching the Snitch." Harry yelled down to him, brandishing the struggling ball before releasing it again.  
  
Harry had caught the Snitch twice more, once involving a spectacular barrel roll to snatch his fingers over it when he realised he wasn't low enough, before Ron had finished his formations notes.  
  
"I'm setting off the other balls Harry." He called up as Harry circled slowly, eyes peeled.   
  
Within seconds, Ginny was up next to Harry, Hailey Penter floating on the other side of him.   
  
"My, he can really talk!" Ginny sighed slowly, stifling a yawn.   
  
"He's got some brilliant idea's though, like that Chaser feint, I wonder where he saw that." Hailey replied admirably.   
  
"Oh, it's a variation of the Porskoff Ploy." Ginny replied casually. "He's not stopped reading Quidditch Through The Ages since he got here. Rather funny actually. He tried to draw on some directions lines on one of the diagrams. The book began beating him around the head, screaming a horrible war cry!" Hailey and Ginny burst out laughing, but Harry had just spotted the Snitch circling a goalpost to their right. Without a word, he zoomed off towards it, leaving Ginny and Hailey floating staring after him shocked.   
  
The cool metal met his hand with a soft thump as he caught the Snitch. He flew back up to Hailey and Ginny, grinning madly.  
  
"Sorry. Had to do it." He grinned.  
  
"S'ok." Ginny replied, groaning as Ron yelled up at them. "Coming Ron!"   
  
At two O'clock, they traipsed up to the castle, ready for a well-deserved late lunch.  
  
"Harry," Hermione called from the end of the Gryffindor table. "Harry, over here." They walked over and sat down with Hermione as she passed Harry two envelopes.   
  
"These came for you with the morning post." Ripping the first envelope, Harry pulled out the letter and read quietly to Hermione and Ron.  
  
Dear Harry.  
  
Hope everything is fine; everything good on this end. You must make the team! I'm counting on it. I need SOME Gryffindor people on the team. I am not just going to put up with Slytherins. I will see you on Saturday; I am coming to watch the game.  
  
Oliver.   
  
"Oliver?" Hermione asked in disbelief as she took the letter from Harry to check. "Why will Oliver be coming to the game?"  
  
"He said about putting up with Slytherins. Maybe he's helping the Hogwarts team?" Harry guessed.  
  
"He would have said!" Ron replied, crestfallen. "He has been owling me."  
  
"Who wrote the first owl Ron?" Hermione asked slowly.  
  
"He did. He owled me the day after I received my letter."   
  
"You great twit!" Hermione scoffed. "He obviously owled you to give you pointers to make sure some Gryffindor's got on the team!"   
  
"Open the other one Harry." Ron said almost too quickly.  
  
He tore along the top of the envelope and as he pulled out the letter, a folded page of Newspaper fell out onto the table. Hermione picked it up, unfolded it and quickly and read it silently, her face breaking into an ecstatic grin. Harry and Ron stared anxiously at her before she handed the page to them, it was obviously a front-page article from the large shocking title.  
  
SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT.  
  
Sirius Black, the convicted murderer, it turns out, was innocent of all charges. Peter Petigrew, his supposed victim was spotted in Northern England yesterday. Remus Lupin, friend to the wrongly accused Black, gave a statement early yesterday morning.  
  
"We all thought Sirius was guilty." Remus Lupin explained to our reporter animatedly. "All evidence pointed to him, but when I saw Peter with my own eyes three years ago, I knew it had all been a huge mistake. Peter was the spy who informed the Dark Lord of the Potter's whereabouts, not Sirius. Peter also faked his own death to make his escape, cutting off his finger and transforming into his animagus form."  
  
Peter Petigrew, and unregistered animagi, is now wanted for the following of He-who-must-not-be-named, and for the help in murdering Lily and James Potter, parents of the Boy Who Lived.  
  
This news came all too late though, as Sirius Black died in May of this year trying to protect Harry Potter, who the Prophet can exclusively reveal, is Black's godson. He was murdered in a duel with Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange, one of the wanted escaped prisoners.  
  
Harry gaped openly at the article as Hermione smiled at him. He read the article three times before placing it on the table and staring at Hermione.  
  
"Don't you get the prophet?" He asked.   
  
"No." She replied sheepishly. "I cancelled my prescription when Fudge admitted being wrong."   
  
"I think you should reapply." Harry grinned.   
  
"What's the letter say?" Ron asked curiously, looking at the open letter staring up at them.  
  
"Oh, I completely forgot." Harry grinned, picking up the letter.   
  
  
  
Harry,  
  
Brilliant about the article, I couldn't believe it when they knocked on my door for an interview. I wasn't sure if you were still getting the Prophet, so I got a few copies and sent them to people. (I sent one to Narcissa Malfoy as well; show her what her cousin really is… a hero, unlike her sister)   
  
Harry could almost see Remus grinning.  
  
Anyway, I'm hoping you're doing ok. Practice really hard for the game! Dumbledore is taking out all the stops! Oliver Wood will be helping the team, as will I!   
  
"Remus helping the team?" Ron asked loudly making several people look up.   
  
"Ron, SHHH!" Hermione cut him off pleadingly. "Harry, carry on."  
  
Lee Jordan will be coming back to commentate. You need to be careful. Especially of Malfoy. I will be arriving on Friday. We will need to talk. See you on Friday Harry.  
  
Remus.  
  
"Remus is coming here?" Hermione asked. "That's brilliant!"  
  
"He'll be helping the team, a member of the order with the team." Ron added quietly. "That's bloody excellent." Harry grinned at them proudly.  
  
"And you know what's more?" He asked, putting his letter and cutting back in their envelope. "Malfoy will hate it!" 


	4. The Wolf and The Snake

Chapter Three  
  
The Wolf and the Snake  
  
Harry always found that when he wanted a time to go quickly, it travelled very slowly, and when he wanted to never reach the end of the week, it seemed the time just trickled through his fingers like water.  
  
As much as Harry wanted to see Remus, the sinking feeling in his stomach was growing rapidly as the game approached, and before Harry could believe it, it was ten minutes before the end of double potions on Friday afternoon. Snape was being as cruel as ever, and he was prowling around the classroom giving disdainful looks at all the Gryffindor cauldrons while praising the Slytherins endlessly.   
  
"Another zero Potter! How you got in this class must be another of those flukes you seem to have so often." He sneered angrily. Raising his wand, ready to dispose of Harry's potion, Harry snarled back.  
  
"What's wrong with it?"  
  
"Manners Potter!" Snape snapped, his dark eyes boring into Harry's. "The potion should be a pale blue as if made of ice, yours however looks like murky slush!"  
  
"What about Goyle's then? His is almost black!" Harry replied almost murderously.  
  
"The other student's work is none of your business Potter, it is mine!" Harry looked around the class, all watching him anxiously, or humouredly.   
  
"I want to turn it in and have you mark it properly!" Harry commented fiercely.   
  
"Very well, you may do so, but I doubt you will receive more than a zero!" Snape snapped angrily. "Everyone bottle your potions and put them on the desk!"  
  
Harry bottled his potion, labelled it, and placed it on Snape's desk in silence. He packed his things away, leaving his cauldron until last in the chance Snape would knock it off his desk by 'accident'. Finally, when he was satisfied his potion was safe; he cleaned his cauldron with a cleaning spell and put it at the back with the others.   
  
Following Hermione to the Great Hall, ignoring her pleading with him not to speak to Snape like that again, he took a seat next to Ron, who was looking very smug with himself.   
  
"What's with you?" Hermione asked, taking a seat opposite.   
  
"Lee Jordan arrived earlier. He brought Fred and George with him! They came to see me lead the team!" Ron replied positively gleaming.  
  
"Ron that's excellent!" Hermione replied sincerely.   
  
"Yeah Ron. Good on ya mate!" Harry smirked, helping himself to Steak and Kidney Pie.  
  
They ate in silence, Hermione throwing a few curious glances around and a few worried glances at Harry. Trying to avoid her gaze, Harry looked up at the Teacher's table. Remus had arrived! He was sitting up at the staff table, talking very quietly to Snape in a rather stiff manner. Snape was staring at his food, occasionally nodding to Remus and taking a bite of food. Harry grinned, it was nice to see Remus Lupin back at the teacher's table. Letting his eyes wander down the table, Harry almost burst out laughing; instead a small snort of laughter went through his nose, pumpkin juice squirting onto the table. Fred and George Weasley were sitting either side of Dumbledore, showing him a range of their latest products. At that present moment, they were showing him the headless hats, so Dumbledore's body was there along with the neck, the beard seeming to sprout from the severed neck.   
  
Ron and Hermione followed Harry's eye-line after darting out of the way from the spraying pumpkin juice. Ron grinned, and Hermione looked very confused. Surely someone that intelligent couldn't like jokes.   
  
Just as Harry was finishing a helping of Apple pie, the hall almost empty now, when Remus Lupin sat down next to Hermione opposite Harry, grinning.  
  
"Evening all." He chortled lightly.   
  
"Remus!" Hermione and Ron chorused. Harry ginned lightly.   
  
"How are you?" Hermione asked. "How's the order?" She whispered.  
  
"Good, and good!" Remus replied, turning to Ron. "How's Quidditch practice going?"   
  
"Brilliant. We're pretty sure we have a good chance." Ron replied.   
  
"Harry? Feeling confident?"  
  
"Kinda. I'm nervous!" Harry replied.  
  
"Well obviously. But you have a fifty-fifty chance of getting it. We have to take two seekers, because if something happens to the first, there has to be a second. So I wouldn't be too worried." He smiled reassuringly, comforting Harry a lot more than anything had the entire week.   
  
Remus stood suddenly. "Right, I have things to do before I leave the castle on Monday morning and watch the game tomorrow. I will see you three in the morning." He stepped out from the bench and walks off out of the doors and disappeared around the corner in the direction of the Dungeons.   
  
"We'd better get going guys. We need a proper nights sleep before this game tomorrow." Ron commented in a very Percy like manner Harry had not expected. Standing, he waiting for Ron to grab a second helping of pie and cradle it in his hands, thankful he hadn't tried to add some cream, before walking out into the Entrance hall and starting towards the steps when he stopped.  
  
"Potter, wait." Harry turned; Professor Snape was striding towards him angrily. "I expect you in my office in ten minutes."  
  
"Why?" Harry stammered.  
  
"You have a lesson!" Snape replied bitterly, glaring angrily at Ron and Hermione.   
  
"What?" Harry asked slowly. "We didn't plan…"  
  
"I know we didn't plan it Potter!" Snape snapped angrily. Just be down in my office in ten minutes!"   
  
With a swish of his long black robes, he had turned and marched off down into the dungeons, terrified first years backing up out of his way.  
  
"I might as well stay down here. No point in walking up now." Harry sighed, pulling his wand from his bag. "Hermione, can you take this?"  
  
Nodding, Hermione took Harry's bag and threw him a sympathetic look before walking up the stairs. Ron, still cradling his extra piece of pie shrugged and muttered angrily,  
  
"Git." Harry laughed hollowly and grinned to Ron before following Snape down into the dungeons.  
  
"Close the door Potter." Snape ordered from behind his desk. His back was turned to Harry as he extracted the long silvery thoughts from his temple and placed them in the pensieve. Harry watched curiously as the contents spun like liquid glass whenever a silvery strand touched the substance. Taking a seat in front of Snape's desk, he looked at the papers strewn across it; many were letters from Slytherin student's parents complaining about the running of the school.  
  
"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, why the sudden lesson?" Harry queried, leaning forward in his chair as Snape placed the pensieve on an empty shelf of the bookcase behind the desk.  
  
"Because Potter, as much as I hate to admit it, and Lupin loves to remind me, you have an extremely high chance of going to this Quidditch Competition, and as I have the exhilarating job of staying here to teach potions, I will not be able to teach you until you return. Therefore, one last lesson was in order. That is, unless you mess up tomorrow, which wouldn't surprise me." Harry was inwardly seething as he stood up again.  
  
Snape was gripping his wand tightly in his right hand, pointing it at the floor, his knuckles almost white. Harry stares at his hand for a second, and for a second, when he looked up to Snape's face, he thought he saw a flicker of nervousness there, but as Snape raised his wand and sneered openly at Harry, he knew he had imagined it.   
  
"Legimens!" Snape yelled this so angrily and harshly, that Harry stumbled backwards, the strength of the spell seemed weakened somehow, his memories flashing before him a lot slower than usual, as if Snape were looking for something in particular. Suddenly, he saw himself playing Quidditch the day before, watching the chasers zoom up the pitch in a particularly odd fashion. Harry remembered it as one of Ron's special formations Oliver had told him about. The memory carried on in a peculiar fashion, Snape was hanging onto this memory. Suddenly, Harry realised what was going on. Snape wasn't worried about Harry not being away from lessons; he was cheating, trying to find out the Gryffindor tactics.   
  
"He can't do that!" A voice was telling Harry within his head. "That's wrong! STOP HIM!" Harry pushed and pushed, as if an invisible hand was groping as his mind, fighting with all his will power, he prised the hand from his brain. Everything went black.   
  
"Potter…" Snape breathed slowly as if he had just run a long sprint. "That was…" He breathed a few more deep breaths, his voice ragged, "Excellent." The world around him was still black, until Harry realised he had his eyes squeezed shut. They shot open and Harry looked at his Professor. He was standing in a most peculiar fashion, leaning on the back of his chair, one hand covering his face and his head leaning on his forearm, shielding his face from Harry.   
  
"How did you do that?" Snape breathed, his breath rattling past his yellowing teeth as he stood up straight.  
  
"I…" Harry paused. "I don't know!"   
  
"What did you feel?" Snape sneered, his composure returning quickly, his eyes boring into Harry's.   
  
"I felt like a hand was groping around my mind. I prised it off." Harry replied awkwardly. "Was I doing it wrong?"  
  
"No!" Snape snapped, though it didn't sound like the normal Snape like snap. It was as if he were trying to make Harry feel better. "No, it was perfect. You obviously will have to learn to shut off your mind before the Dark Lord gets to it, so he will not know you are hiding something before he even starts to attack your mind, but that way of blocking is perfectly acceptable."  
  
"Sir…" Harry breathed nervously. "What did it feel like to you? It obviously hurt!"  
  
"It does Potter; a great deal in fact." Snape replied, sitting in his high backed Ebony chair. He motioned for Harry to sit. It took Harry a second to accept as he was so shocked Snape had offered him a chair so politely. "It feels as if someone is…." He leaned back in his chair. "Potter, when I say so, point your wand at me and say Legimens! I will show you." Harry grasped his wand steadily.  
  
"Ready?" Harry nodded slowly. "Go!" Harry lifted his wand, pointed his wand at Snape and muttered.  
  
"Legimens!"   
  
In front of his eyes, Harry could see Snape's memories flashing past him. A younger Dumbledore offering Snape a job, Sirius taunting Snape about his hair, Lucius Malfoy grabbing Snape by the neck and glaring down at him angrily.   
  
"ARGHHHHHHH…" Harry yelled out in pain. It felt as if a million sharp needles were being pushed into his brain from all directions. Through the memories flashing before his mind, Harry could see Snape; his eyes shut tight and concentration etched over his cold pale face. Harry immediately pulled his head up to look at the ceiling, his head throbbing madly and his breathing shallow.  
  
"That is what it feels like." Snape replied slowly. "Not nice is it?"   
  
"It's terrible!" Harry replied, his head dropping to stare Snape in the eyes. The potion master wore an expression of curiosity and contemplation, though he stared back at Harry with pure truth.   
  
"You find it difficult, don't you?" He muttered quietly.   
  
"What sir?"  
  
"Emptying your mind."   
  
"I… uhh… Don't know what you mean." Harry was almost afraid of what Snape would say.  
  
"At night. You are finding it difficult you empty your mind."  
  
"Well, yes, but that's because I don't know how."  
  
"That isn't true." Harry was really worried now, whenever Snape accused him of lying, it was with a snide cold drawl, this time it was almost caring. "You don't want to lose the memories." Snape was staring at a point on the desk, an old water ring visible on the dark wood.  
  
"You worry that you will lose the memories you empty from your mind if you allow yourself to do so."   
  
"I don't!" Harry snapped back.  
  
"Harry…" Harry's eyes widened. Where had 'Potter' gone? "You won't lose them! Believe me I know. I used to be so worried of losing some of my most favourite memories. Here, let me do something. Do not resist it. He had stood and was walking around towards Harry, his wand raised. Coiling back in the chair, Harry tried to edge away, but the tip of Snape's wand had reached his temple before he could get away. It felt as if a worm were inside his head, wriggling around over his brain. Suddenly though, it was gone, and Snape was walking around to the bookshelf with a silver thought attached to the end of his wand. He placed it into the pensieve silently, and picked up the bowl, placing it on the desk in front of them.   
  
Slowly and silently, a figure rose from the bowl, a figure moving quickly and shooting curses at the wall. Harry looked up to see Snape was frowning slightly. Harry looked back, the black hair and tattered robes suddenly recognizable; it was Sirius. He was in the department of mysteries, fighting Bella. A green light shone from the pensieve and Sirius fell backwards through something, disappearing from view. Harry hadn't noticed the cold tear creeping down his cheek as he watched, but it was there all the same, and was soon joined by more all creeping steadily down his cheeks.   
  
"You don't want to forget that."  
  
"I want more than anything to forget." Harry replied slowly, wiping his cheeks with the sleeve of his robes.  
  
"No. You want more than anything to hang on to that memory. To keep blaming yourself for his death and to not let yourself to forget it." Snape's voice was cold but understanding. As if a light had switched on in his head, Harry realised why Snape was being so understanding as a figure rose from the bowl, this time taking on an older form of Snape. Harry watched as the figure was engulfed in green and he fell lifelessly to the floor.  
  
"That was my father." Snape murmured. "I watched as the Dark Lord murdered him. I did nothing. I refuse to let go of the guilt from that day. I did nothing to stop it." Snape leaned forward in his hands as the Pensieve held the shimmering silver contents. "The memories don't disappear, they merely take a different form when you hide them away. Like these do in the Pensieve. You mustn't worry about losing him."   
  
As Snape placed the thought back into Harry's head, he knew the lesson was over. He stood and stepped to the door, Snape with his back to him, placing the pensieve on the bookcase.   
  
"Thank you sir." Harry muttered, and without waiting for any reply, he opened the door and left.  
  
"So, how did it go?" Hermione asked as Harry sat down next to them in front of the fire.   
  
"Ok." Harry replied slowly. "Snape's a pretty decent guy when he wants to be."  
  
"Snape? Decent?" Ron asked in confusion. "That Occl-watsit has gone to your head mate. I think you're going mad!" 


	5. Game On

Sorry about the wait.  
  
Michele  
  
Chapter Four  
  
Game on.  
  
The continuous pacing back and forth along the side of his bed woke Harry from his what would have been deep sleep. The padding that relentlessly shot through his ears was penetrating his dreams so that Harry's dream contained an overly large polar bear that was circling him playing a miniscule base drum. Sitting up slowly, he pulled his hangings back to find Ron pacing back and forth reading Quidditch Through The Ages.   
  
"What time is it Ron?" He asked sleepily, pulling the hangings back fully and attaching them to the bedposts.   
  
"It's almost seven am." Ron replied hysterically. Harry groaned and fell back onto his pillow, pulling his covers over his head to dull out the sound of Ron pacing in front of his bed, but as he drifted off, the polar bear was back, taunting him with the tiny drum.  
  
When Harry next awoke, it was just after nine. Pulling on a jeans and T-shirt, he stuffed his wand in his back pocket and made his way down to the Great Hall. The air was practically buzzing with energy when Harry walked through the doors into the Hall. The tables were as full as they would have been on a weekday, people chatting and eating enthusiastically, all anxious of the outcome of the game. At the end of the Gryffindor table, Harry noticed Fred and George Weasley sitting opposite a rather terrified looking Ron. Grinning and shaking his head, Harry took a seat next to his best friend.  
  
"Harry!" Fred grinned. "How are you feeling?"   
  
"Hopefully not as bad as Ronnie here!" George chipped in. "Looks like he's eaten a puking pastille."   
  
"You didn't slip one in his cornflakes did you?" Fred asked, turning to George mockingly.   
  
"Actually..." Ron looked up from his cereal, horrified at the idea, but Fred and George just laughed.  
  
"Course we didn't!" Fred smirked. "Wouldn't do that to you little bro!"   
  
They ate in silence, Fred and George receiving many grins and pats on the back for their departure the year before from nearly everyone who passed them. Lee joined them just as Harry was finishing his toast. Lee stretched and cracked his knuckles.  
  
"Feels good to be commentating again." He chortled.   
  
"What are you talking about? You are commentating for National games!" George retorted, making Lee grin.  
  
"Yeah, but the ref's are so strict, that it's impossible to have fun. Old Madam Hooch is about as blind as a bat... she doesn't see half the fouls that go on. It's a lot more fun." Lee replied, grinning devilishly.  
  
"How's business, guys?" Harry asked lightly, pouring himself some Pumpkin juice.  
  
"Can't complain. We get some good money doing it." Fred explained.  
  
"Of course, we're getting a lot of offers for some of our tricks. I mean Zonko's offered us fifty galleons for the recipe for our skiving Snackboxes." George continued. "We said no obviously. They make us almost double that a month from sales."   
  
"We'd better go." Ron commented slowly. Harry nodded, following Ron out of the Hall and down to the Quidditch stadium into the Gryffindor changing rooms.  
  
When the rest of the team were down and changed, Ron went to give a pre game speech, but instead of talking, he just grinned and stood up straight to look as if he wasn't scared. Harry however, knew Ron was feeling as sick as he was, and his stomach was getting into a tightly tied knot.  
  
"And welcome to you all on this excellent day for a game of Quidditch. Coming onto the pitch, we have our four teams. The Gryffindor's led by Ron Weasley, the fourth Weasley brother to have donned that uniform, the second Weasley brother to have captained the team. The Slytherins are led by Montague, big bugger he is."  
  
"JORDAN!"   
  
"Sorry, Professor. The Hufflepuffs are led by Smith, only been on the team two years, but he's the one that's lasted longest without Slytherin beating him to a pulp, so well done there Smith. Ravenclaw are, as last year; captained by Roger Davies. Still on form I hope Roger." Harry saw Roger turn and give Lee and grin. "Excellent"  
  
All four captains shook hands with each other as everyone mounted their brooms. Madam Hooch checked around that everyone was ready, and blew her silver whistle.  
  
"And they're off!" The familiar booming voice of Lee Jordan over the commentator's microphone sent a warm feeling to Harry's stomach, despite the biting November wind as he rose up into the air. "This should be a very difficult and interesting match. For those of you who have forgotten what Dumbledore said last week, we haven't had one of these games for ten years and it will be the only game in Hogwarts this year, so all of you players, we want a good game!"  
  
"Hey scarhead," Draco Malfoy called angrily from a few metres away. "You might as well pack up and get off the pitch. Your rat pack doesn't have a chance."  
  
"Fuck off Ferret Boy, or I'll take a leaf out of Moody's book and bounce you from here to next week!" Harry snarled. Draco's grey eyes narrowed dangerously, his face turning slightly pink with embarrassment.  
  
"You're not going anywhere Potter. You, Weasley and Granger have had too much of the glory so far. It's time for Slytherin to take the lead." With that, Draco flew off across the pitch in search of the Snitch. Within seconds, Cho Chang was floating beside him  
  
"Ignore Malfoy." She commented, her eyes scanning the pitch. "He's just bitter because he knows he won't get Seeker."  
  
"Yeah" Harry replied absently, watching the Chasers and Beaters zoom every which way around the pitch. When Cho Chang realised Harry wasn't hanging on her every word, she huffed loudly and flew off towards the Ravenclaw section.   
  
"Gryffindor with the Quaffle going for the Hufflepuff area. Ginny Weasley with the Quaffle, make your brother's proud Gin! NO! A Blunder from Goyle makes her drop it! Hufflepuff with the ball, wait Ravenclaw, now Hufflepuff. What's going on? The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff chasers are working together heading for Gryffindor. Surely that isn't aloud!" Lee was roaring over the microphone, all the beaters streaming towards the Gryffindor hoops where Ron was waiting, his eyes darting to follow the Quaffle change hands every few seconds.   
  
"Ravenclaw shoots..." A collective intake of breath from everyone in the stands signalled the shot, but as Ron diver towards the left hoop, he batted the flying Quaffle down to Jack Sloper who used his Beater bat to whack the Quaffle all the way over to the Slytherin are, causing Harry to punch the air happily and the entire Gryffindor stand to erupt into a rendition of 'Weasley is our King'.  
  
Looking over, Harry watched as Draco scowled murderously at the cheering Gryffindor spectators and flew down to Goyle, muttering something in his ear before Goyle, bat raised, flew off in Ron's direction. Desperate to stop Ron from being a new Blunder for Goyle to hit, Harry pelted down towards the ground at the base of the Hufflepuff goals.  
  
"HARRY'S SEEN THE SNITCH!" Lee roared over the microphone. Every eye now rested on Harry and the other seekers as they all zoomed towards the ground, Malfoy, Cho and Summerby all chasing Harry trying to edge in front of him. The raced at neck-break speed, wind rushing loudly through Harry's ears. Inches from the ground, Harry grabbed the middle pole with both arms, swinging around it horizontally and zooming off in the other direction past the other three seekers. Harry looked back to see Malfoy and Cho pull up just in time, but with an ear-splitting yell, Summerby went pelting into the side of the stands, hitting his head and falling off his broom onto the floor.  
  
Harry was glad he had brought them so close to the ground as Madam Hooch blew her whistle and three teachers came running out of the stands to care to Summerby. Harry flew over to Ron, who was hovering just in front of the middle hoop, watching the proceedings curiously.   
  
"Hey." Harry commented, coming up to float next to him.  
  
"Mate, are you mad? They could book you for that! It's a foul to feint."   
  
"I'd rather be put on warning than have your head as a Blunder. I saw Malfoy mutter something to Goyle before Goyle came flying in your direction." Harry explained. Ron stared blankly at Harry for a second before gaping like a stunned goldfish.  
  
"Oh, well thanks mate!" He gawped. "Great feint by the way." Harry grinned excitedly.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Madam Hooch blew her whistle when Summerby has been woken up and had kicked off again, and the Quaffle was thrown back into the air, caught by Hailey Penter as she soared around the centre of the pitch.  
  
"What the hell is she doing?" Lee's voice rang. "Penter, you're going the wrong way!" Harry spun around on his broom to see Hailey Penter flying very deliberately towards the Gryffindor posts, nine Chasers from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin streaking after her.  
  
"SHE DROPS IT!" Harry watched in slow motion as the Quaffle fell from Hailey's hands, but a streak of fire red hair zooming in the other direction shot past, snatching up the Quaffle and hurtling towards the Slytherin posts.  
  
"I can't believe it! Fabulous tactics from the Gryffindor team! The others have no chance of catching Weasley!" He was right, by the time the other chasers had even realised what had happened, Ginny was entering the Slytherin scoring zone.  
  
"She's past Crabbe and Goyle, those two dunces couldn't stop her anyway." Professor McGonagall made no protests to Lee's insults; Harry could see her jumping up and down screaming Ginny on. "She shoots... SHE SCORES! Gryffindor are first off the mark!" The sound from the Gryffindor stands was almost deafening. There were screams and shouts of glee, while the other three stands were booing angrily. Harry was flying in circles happily, catching a glimpse of Fred and George Weasley jumping up and down screaming at the top of their lungs.  
  
"THAT'S OUR SISTER!" They were screaming ecstatically.   
  
"Right, it's Davies for Ravenclaw with the Quaffle, now Smith for Hufflepuff, now Davies.... Oh not this again! Let's get this straight boys, you play for DIFFERENT TEAMS!" Lee was yelling angrily over the microphone. In the background, Harry could hear Professor McGonagall yelling angrily about the joining of two teams. Harry chuckled, glancing around the stands when he saw it.  
  
The Snitch was fluttering right in the middle of the right hand Ravenclaw hoop. Gripping the handle of his Firebolt tightly, he raced forward, ducking in and out of the Chasers and Beaters. He turned to see Draco Malfoy hot on his tail, trying to edge his way forward. Harry zigzagged between the players as he raced closer and closer to the Snitch. Stretching out his hand, he flew straight at the hoop, realising only too late that he wouldn't get through it at that height.   
  
'THWACK!' The entire stadium groaned. The broom went under the hoop, his head through it, and his middle went slap bang into the golden hoop. Just hanging onto his broom with his legs clamped around the wood, his hand closed over the struggling Snitch, Madam Hooch blew her silver whistle.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY POINTS, EVERYONE ELSE ZERO!" Lee boomed. The Gryffindor stands were jumping up and down, the entire stadium vibrating from all the feet stamping. "Poor Harry!" Lee called suddenly. "You alright?" Harry, both arms clasped around the hoop to stop himself falling, grinned happily at Lee. Within seconds, Ron and Ginny were at Harry's sides, getting his broom back under him so he could slide back onto it and fly back down to the ground.   
  
"Harry," Ron breathed as they placed their feet firmly on the ground, "that looked..." He grimaced. "Painful!" Holding one arm across his stomach to try and wrench in the pain, Harry grinned.  
  
"We won." Harry murmured happily. "Ron we fucking won!"   
  
The screaming and chanting quickly cut off their conversation as the entire Quidditch team were hoisted onto the shoulders of the Gryffindor supporters, carrying them up to the castle where, in the common room, they didn't stop celebrating until Professor McGonagall showed up accompanied by Remus Lupin at three in the morning, with an unusually large grin plastered to her face, telling them they would all have detention scrubbing the Quidditch Stadium with toothbrushes if they didn't get to bed. 


End file.
